Richmond Park

We went, the three of us, in early December
to visit Richmond Park. All free of charge
we rode the roads there, parked, to roam at large
round bracken bracketed ponds. I remember
the simple silent morning. We swung the boy
as if a wind had swung him from his feet –
then set him down in grass, to plod, and eat,
his apple-slice, gripping his top, a new toy.
And I was glad of this considerate park
where we could drive, and walk, in light sun steer
our way. And then we saw the sitting deer
and we were near them, close – and then a lark
skidded delightfully through clear cold air.
Then three-in-one of us drove home from there.

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